


PTB Smut University 2014 Homework Assignments

by EdwardsMate4ever



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, One Shot Collection, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:22:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1919715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdwardsMate4ever/pseuds/EdwardsMate4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homework assignments for Smut University. Multiple pairings from Twilight and Game of Thrones. A different pairing for each chapter. Not a through story - several stand alone one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Lesson 1:** Action and Reaction

 

 **Assignment:** Use the gif prompt to write an exchange of action and reaction. Remember to be aware of your characters’ surroundings. What are they thinking, seeing, feeling, smelling, tasting? Gif image pictures a man and woman dancing at night beside a bonfire.

 

 **Fandom:** Twilight

 

 **Pairing:** Rachel Black  & Paul Lahote

 

 **Title:** Summer Beach Bonfire

 

A large wave, much bigger than the ones that came before, crashed down over my head and propelled me downward. My body rolled and tumbled over itself into the depths of the salt water. It was pitch-black outside, the only light coming from the bonfire near the shore, so I hadn’t seen it coming.

 

I wasn’t afraid, even though I wasn’t able to get a good breath of air before going under. I was a strong swimmer having practically grown up on First Beach. My family had come every weekend before Mom died, and I practically lived in the waves. But it didn’t even matter whether or not I could swim. I had Paul. Maybe his overprotectiveness should have annoyed me, but there were worse things than having someone who would make sure no harm ever came to you.

 

Right on cue, a strong arm encircled my waist and hauled me to the surface. The spray of the water as I reemerged stung my eyes as I gasped in a huge breath of air. Paul turned me around in his arms. His pupils were huge and his eyes sparked with panic.

 

“Are you all right?” he asked desperately, spitting out some sea water.

 

I only nodded, not entirely trusting my voice to be steady. I didn’t want to worry him more than necessary. Relieved, Paul led me to the shore. We’d been relatively far out, so it took a few minutes to get back. As we stepped out of the tide, Paul slid his fingers through mine and I grasped his hand. A spark flew up my arm as our palms touched and I marveled for the millionth time at our strange connection.

 

I’d never known about the finer points of the tribe’s histories. Of course, like everyone, I had heard the stories told by Dad around the campfire—legends of werewolves and vampires. It was always fantasy to me—a spooky story told for fun to scare the kids. To find out that it was all real? Well, it really blindsided me. And I had shifter blood, and my sister, and my father. Jake was a fucking _Alpha,_ for God's sake.

 

When Paul Lahote informed me of his imprint, aka declared his love for me, I was even more shocked. I barely knew the guy. In fact, all I knew of him was that he existed. I remember looking up into his face and catching his hopeful eye. I saw something there that I couldn’t put my finger on, but I knew I could never look away either. I was his and he was mine. And so it was. We worked well on every level. It was like we’d known each other forever and yet it all felt fresh and new. My heart fluttered at the sight of him approaching and wallowed whenever he was away from me. Paul was truly my soul mate, and I was thankful to whatever ancient gods were responsible for putting us together.

 

I started to walk back toward the party—people would probably start to wonder where we were—but my arm was tugged back by Paul’s. Confused, I turned to look at him and saw he hadn’t moved. Smiling, he said in his low, _I’m horny_ voice, “Why don’t we…” He trailed off, but nodded over at an outcropping of rock.

 

_Oh my god, he wants us to have sex right there where anyone could just walk by, in the sand against cold, wet stones?_

 

He seemed to know what I was thinking because he continued, “We’ve got the towels.”

 

That would work, but there was still something that was bothering me. “My brother is, like, right there. He could walk by. Anyone could walk by.”

 

Paul pulled me to him and the heat of his bare torso against my skin convinced me before he even said anything. “Let them,” he replied with a laugh. “Seriously though, let’s just be quick about it.”

 

“And quiet.”

 

“Deal.”

 

We walked the twenty feet to the outcropping and laid out our towels next to one another out of sight. Paul grasped my arms and playfully threw me down on top of the towels, tickling my stomach just above the line of my bikini until I was breathless from giggling. Chuckling, he showed me mercy and stopped, instead resting his palm against the soft flesh of my belly. He stroked in tiny circles, my nerves prickling at the erotic sensation.

 

His pillowy lips captured mine and I opened my mouth immediately, ready to receive him. He tasted like shitty beer and the brine of sea water, and something uniquely Paul. He toyed with the waistband of my bikini bottom as we kissed, occasionally dipping his middle finger down the front of the fabric to tease my clit. My hips bucked up to chase his hand, but he was always one step ahead of me, his hand safely back at my belly button before I could catch him.

 

“Paaaul,” I whined against his lips. “Please.” I didn’t care that I was begging. I just wanted him to really fucking touch me already.

 

He smirked—looking quite smug, I might add—but he gave in, moving his lips along my jaw and down my neck as he cupped me through the fabric. I rubbed wantonly against his palm, feeling the heat of him penetrate the material. The feverish heat warmed my sensitive parts to the point of tingling.

 

Paul’s other hand, which had been around my shoulders, traveled down to the cup of my bikini bra, dragging the lycra back and tucking it into the shoulder strap, exposing my breast to his hot mouth. His slick, scorching tongue swept at my nipple, lapping and flicking and nipping until it stood on end, taut as it could be. At the same time, he slipped his other hand underneath my bikini bottom, dipping his firm, thick finger into my wetness, and then dragging it up and down my clit.

 

I was practically convulsing with pleasure as he continued to worship my body. I struggled to keep my moans soft, but I was finding it difficult. The scent of burning wood had a strong presence which reminded me there were people nearby, but I found that it aroused me more when combined with the unnatural amount of heat Paul emitted. I was the perfect combination, and it made me completely forget that we had a potential audience.

 

Moaning a little too loudly when he gently grazed my pebbled nub with his teeth made Paul growl low in his throat in return. His wolf was starting to need, I could tell. His eyes were so dark and intense, and his body quivered like his wolf wanted to pop out at any moment. Maybe that should have scared me, but instead, it made my entire pelvis ache with the desire to be filled by him. The very thought made me gush, and Paul’s nostrils flared. The sexy snarl that he let out was entirely too loud, and then he was on me, pressing his burgeoning erection against my own heat. The soft, terry-cloth towels rubbed sensually against my back, and I was glad we had them.

 

The intense temperature of his skin scorched every inch of my body as he lay on top of me, careful to support his immense bulk on his forearms. Sweat streamed from my every pore at the contact, the salt from the sweat mixing with that of the ocean. Our bodies moved against one another seamlessly with the help of our perspiration. The scent of our lust combined with that of the beach created a heady smell that could only be attributed to the mating of imprints.

 

We rutted against each other until we couldn’t take any more. No words were needed, we both just knew. Paul swiftly rid himself of his trunks and pushed the fabric between my legs to the side. I spread my legs wide as he held my swimsuit out of the way and he groaned at the sight of me spread out before him. He stroked his long length, squeezing so hard it looked painful, but he only growled out in pleasure and lined himself up with my body.

 

When he finally entered me, he did it slowly. I felt my lips split apart around his thick shaft. His heat was so concentrated within his cock that I could feel the searing burn creep up my walls as he inched his way home. For such a burly, hot-headed man, he was always careful not to hurt me. There was nothing to be done about the initial burning sensations from his cock, but it was something I’d come to expect, and I craved the flames with every fiber of my being. I arched my back to take him in deeper.

 

Finally, I felt the coarse hairs at his root brush against my hypersensitive folds, and I knew he was all the way home. He breathed heavily against my cheek, collecting himself, and I turned my face, capturing his lips with mine. My tongue sliding against his was all the encouragement he needed and he began to set a steady rhythm, making the soft terry towel rub against my back and ass in the most enticing way.

 

After a few gentle strokes, the animal within demanded release. I knew it was coming—it always did—and my excitement mounted, my heart thumping inside my chest. I gasped as Paul pulled out to the very tip before slamming back into me. It felt amazing being taken like that, and my toes curled into the sand over the edge of the towel, each little granule heightening my sensation. His big hand supported his weight on one side of me while the other held my bikini aside, but his lips were everywhere he could reach. I bucked my hips and met every deep, hard thrust. The sound of our bodies colliding was almost deafening.

 

Soon, Paul’s breathing grew choppier, and he let go of the swimsuit to lick his thumb. The fabric rubbed against my clit almost painfully as he continued to thrust, and it sent jolts through my spine and out into my limbs. Paul brought his wet thumb back down and the fabric was gone, replaced by his slick digit nestled against the crest of my folds, bringing me with him into oblivion.

 

The sounds of the waves and the indistinct chatter around the bonfire, the smells of sex and salt, the sight of the stars in the sky framing my imprint above me, the taste of my blood as I bit my lower lip too hard, the feel of the towel and sand and Paul—it all was too much and I lost myself in the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life. I was pretty sure Paul came with me, but truthfully, I was so far gone I didn’t notice his hot seed until it began to creep back down my leg.

 

Paul and I lay comfortably together as we came down from our mutual high. Once I had cooled down some, worry crept through me that someone may have heard us. In fact, the chatter seemed to have stopped completely, with only the crackling fire still to be heard.

 

“Do you think they heard us?” I whispered, a little nervous.

 

Paul barked out a laugh and didn’t bother whispering. “Are you kidding, babe? They would have heard you in fuckin’ Timbuktu! Look.”

 

He rose up on his knees to look over the rocks. I popped my boob back into the cup of my suit and mirrored him.

 

“See, Rach? You scared them away!”

 

He was right. There was not a single soul still sitting around the bonfire. The whole pack, and their imprints, had all disappeared.

 

“Oh god,” I groaned, holding my head in my hands. “My brother was there.”

 

Paul just laughed and pulled me in for a hug.

 

I was going to die from embarrassment when I got home tonight.

 

 

**END**

 

 

 **NOTE:** Okay, so I pretty much NEVER write women. I just never know how to describe lady parts in a sexy way. Everything just sounds cliché or raunchy or just god awful. So, I’m hoping I did okay with this. In any case, it was fun writing from Rachel’s POV :)


	2. Lesson 2 - Renly/Loras

**Assignment - The Right Amount of Spice:**

Your homework is to write the same scene three ways: bland, medium and spicy. Use the photo prompt below to create your scene. You can start with any one of the three, and then add or take away from it as necessary. Photo is of a man kissing a woman’s belly (adapted for my purposes)

 

**Fandom:** Game of Thrones

 

**Pairing:** Renly Baratheon & Loras Tyrell (M/M)

 

**Title:** The Night Before His Last

 

**NOTE:** I typically like to flesh out scenes more than this, but seeing as I wrote the sex scene three different ways, I kept the lead-in simple.

 

 

 

King Renly stood before his men, concluding his speech intended to invoke confidence in them for the upcoming confrontation.

 

“And now I must pray to the Seven so that they might bless us in battle against my egregious brother Stannis. Ser Loras, come guard me as I pray.”

 

Ser Loras dutifully followed King Renly into his tent. Safely away from prying eyes, they embraced and kissed with all the pent up desire that had accumulated after a full day of pretending not to be in love.

 

Breaking the kiss, Loras chuckled. “Honestly, Renly. When was the last time you prayed to the Seven? You could have thought of any number of better lies to keep your bannermen out for the night.”

 

Renly grinned. “It's not so unbelievable. After all, it's not every day I lead an army against my own brother so I can claim the throne, is it?”

 

“No, I suppose not.” Loras toyed with his lover’s doublet. “Are you nervous?”

 

“Of course I am. I’ve never been to war. But I’m good with a sword and my army is large and loyal.” Renly wrapped his arms around Loras’ waist, pulling him close. “Besides, I shall have the best sword in Westeros by my side to protect me.” He tucked a stray curl behind Loras’ ear and pressed a delicate kiss beneath his earlobe. “My Knight of Flowers,” he whispered softly against Loras’ delicate skin.

 

Loras smiled sweetly, tilting his head back to give Renly better access to his neck. “Well, my King, why don’t you show me how good you are with a sword?” Loras rubbed his hand over the front of Renly’s breeches, squeezing the growing bulge he found there.

 

Renly groaned. “Only if you slick it for me first.”

 

“With pleasure.”

 

**BLAND:**

 

Loras quickly shed Renly of his clothes before undressing himself. As he kissed a path down Renly's stomach, the thought crossed Loras' mind that they may never do this again. Though unlikely, one of the two of them could be struck down in battle. But Loras pushed the concern aside. Their army was large and loyal. They believed that Renly was their true king and would fight to defend him. Renly would not come to harm.

 

Even so, Loras gave Renly the suckling of his life, pulling off just before Renly could find his completion. Before Renly could protest, Loras sank down upon his length, sucking Renly’s thickness into his body, and rode his king until they both fell over the edge.

 

Afterwards, the lovers lay in recovery. They shared a gentle, loving kiss before succumbing to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, sated and ready to face whatever may come on the morrow.

 

**MEDIUM:**

 

Loras quickly shed Renly of his clothes before slowly undressing himself, making a bit of a show of it. When they were both nude, Loras laid Renly upon the featherbed and hovered over him, trailing hot, wet kisses down the center of his chest and along his stomach. As he worshipped his lover, the thought crossed Loras' mind that they may never do this again. Though unlikely, one of the two of them could be struck down in battle. But Loras pushed the concern aside. Their army was large and loyal. They believed that Renly should be their king and would fight to defend him. Renly would not come to harm. Loras would make sure of it.

 

Renly could take no more teasing. “Please, Loras, I need you.”

 

His king sounded so pathetically desperate that Loras gave in without further ado. He lapped at Renly’s length before swallowing him down his throat, making Renly cry out loudly. Loras chuckled around his length—his bannermen would surely know they weren’t praying now—and the vibrations from his laughter only served to make Renly more vocal. As his head bobbed over his king’s cock, Loras slicked his own fingers with oil and prepared himself to take Renly inside him. Before long, Loras could feel Renly getting close, so he pulled off, causing Renly to whine at the loss of contact. Loras was more than ready, however, so Renly did not have to wait long. Loras climbed up over Renly and positioned himself over his lover’s length, his body stretching to accommodate Renly’s thickness. The Knight of Flowers rode his king until they both fell over the edge.

 

Afterwards, they lay in recovery, not caring they stuck together in the humid summer evening air. They shared a gentle kiss before succumbing to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, hands wandering with loving caresses, sated and ready to face whatever may come on the morrow.

 

**SPICY:**

 

Loras quickly shed Renly of his clothes before slowly undressing himself, unbuttoning his shirt painfully slowly and undulating his hips as he shimmied out of his breeches while Renly laughed at Loras’ little dance. When they were both nude, Loras pounced on Renly and their lips met in a frenzy of pent-up desire. Their hands ghosted over every inch of skin they could reach. Renly pulled away briefly for air, but when he leaned back in, Loras had made other plans. The blond knight hovered over his king, trailing hot, wet kisses down the center of his chest and along his stomach. As he swirled his tongue around Renly's navel, the thought crossed Loras' mind that they may never do this again. Though unlikely, one of the two of them could be struck down in battle. But Loras pushed the concern aside. Their army was large and loyal. They believed that Renly should be their king and would fight to defend him. Renly would not come to harm. Loras would make sure of it.

 

Renly could take no more teasing. “Please, Loras, I need you.”

 

His king sounded so pathetically desperate that Loras decided to give him what he wanted. He shifted down the bed until his face lined up with Renly’s groin, and took the king’s hot, pulsing cock in hand.

 

Giving it a few strong pulls, Loras purred, “Your sword is so firm. Was it forged from Valyrian steel?”

 

Renly could only chuckle before Loras leaned forward and sucked his swollen head into his wet mouth, reducing Renly’s merriment to a chorus of lusty moans.

 

Holding firmly at the base, Loras licked long strokes along Renly’s length before swallowing him down his throat. Renly cried out loudly. Loras chuckled around the thickness in his mouth—his bannermen would surely know they weren’t praying now—and the vibrations from his laughter only served to make Renly more vocal.

 

“Oh gods, Loras! Nggh…”

 

As he bobbed over his king’s cock, Loras slicked his own fingers with oil from the small jar beside the bed. He spread his thighs and penetrated himself with first one, then two fingers. His fingers pressed and stretched his entrance as Loras prepared himself to take Renly inside him.

 

Before long, Loras could feel Renly’s sac tightening below his chin and his whimpers and cries increased. Renly was getting close, so Loras pulled away, causing his lover to whine at the loss of contact.

 

“Please Loras, I need you now.”

 

Loras panted with desire and wasted no time climbing up over Renly and positioning himself over his lover’s length. The bulbous head pressed against his tiny opening, and Loras relished the burning sensation as he sank down on Renly’s cock, feeling his body stretching to accommodate Renly’s thickness.

 

When he was in to the hilt, Renly gasped for breath, whispering, “Gods, you’re so tight.” Loras only grinned widely before settling a quick and dirty pace, riding his king to the brink of oblivion. Renly grunted and Loras moaned as his king’s cock tapped that special spot inside over and over. Too soon, he could take no more pleasure, and Loras fell over the edge, his clenching muscles driving Renly to follow close behind.

 

Loras collapsed against Renly’s strong chest, smearing his release between them. Their fluids made them stick together in the humid summer evening air, but Renly didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around his knight, holding him tightly against his body. Loras tilted his face up toward Renly’s and they shared a gentle kiss before succumbing to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, hands wandering with loving caresses, sated and ready to face whatever may come on the morrow.

 

  

 

 

**NOTE:** I tend to be more on the spicy side with my sex scenes, so this assignment was rather difficult for me! Thanks for the lesson, teacher! Hope I did alright with it.


	3. Ygritte & Jon Snow

**Lesson 3** \- Like a Virgin - Write a scene with one (or both) of your characters losing their virginity. Try to highlight the emotions they’re going through, and the effect it has on them both, while making it sensual and sexy.

 

 **NOTE:** I didn’t entirely follow the guidelines in the lesson. I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do, and this just flowed out. I just went with it. I feel kind of meh about it. Constructive criticism welcome!

 

 **Fandom:** Game of Thrones

 

 **Pairing:** Ygritte and Jon Snow

 

 **Title:** The Grotto

 

“Come on, Snow. I want to show you something.”

 

Jon glanced around furtively, trying to see if the others were watching them.

 

Ygritte was irritated. “No one will come looking, Snow.”

 

She crept off, and Jon followed close behind. Soon, they entered a cave and descended into a grotto. When they reached the beautiful underground hot spring, Ygritte stopped near the edge.

 

“Lay down your furs.”

 

Jon removed his thick coat and spread it out on the rock beside the spring. He shivered a little at the loss of his coat, even though the spring made the air much warmer than what he was used to North of the Wall.

 

“Come sit.” Ygritte beckoned him over, and he sat down beside her on the fur-lined coat. “Take off your boots.” Jon did as he was told, noticing that Ygritte’s shoes were already removed. When he looked up again, Ygritte has removed her own coat of fur. Only she was nude underneath. Jon sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her, standing in all her glory, and his cock filled rapidly.

 

She smirked at his astonished expression. “Have u done this before?”

 

“Of course,” Jon lied.

 

Ygritte didn’t buy it. “You have?”

 

Jon looked down and away. “No,” he admitted quietly.

 

“How old are you?”

 

Snow’s frown deepened. “How old are **you**?”

 

Ygritte just laughed and kneeled down next to him. “Does it matter?”

 

Jon looked down at her breasts, his gaze lingering on the plump orbs adorned with rosy-red, pert little nubs entirely too long to be appropriate. He finally answered that no, it did not matter. Ygritte laughed again.

 

“So you've never seen a naked woman before?”

 

He shook his head, looking her up and down open-mouthed. She inched closer and dipped her fingers under the hem of his shirt, trailing them along the band of his breeches.

 

“And no one's ever touched your cock?”

 

Jon sucked in a sharp breath as her hand ghosted over his hardness. Even through the fabric, her touch was exquisite. He wrenched her hand away and scooted back.

 

“I’m a man of the Night's Watch.”

 

“So?”

 

“Well, we take vows. ‘I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.’”

 

Ygritte laughed again. “I don’t want to be your wife, Jon Snow. Besides, you're a deserter now. If they find you, they'll have your head. May as well have a little fun before you die, don’t you think?”

 

Jon considered his honor for a moment, and promptly threw it out the window. To hell with it. The girl was right. If they ever found him, he was as good as dead. Why not take this woman who offered herself to him so flagrantly?

 

Their lips crashed together and Jon’s hands glided over her body. Her long, red hair was tied back, but he released the ribbon. His stiff cock jumped inside his breeches as he watched the cascade of auburn tumbling down her back, clashing with her creamy white skin. One hand cupped a breast as their tongues dueled, and Jon marveled at how soft and fleshy it was. He thought he could fondle Ygritte’s breast until the end of time.

 

The pressure in his breeches was growing to be too much; his dick was pressing against the laces. He needed some relief, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Ygritte didn’t wait for him to figure it out—she slid her thigh between his and rubbed her naked flesh against his shirt and breeches. The friction sent Jon’s body aflame, and he mimicked her action until they were rubbing against one another quite vulgarly. He felt the heat of her lust through the fabric of his breeches, and he ached to feel his cock sheathed inside her.

 

Ygritte began to pull his shirt up. When his head was freed, her hands traveled over his chest, finally settling on his nipples. She tweaked them both and Jon didn’t know if he could get any harder. When she pressed her breasts against his naked skin, he realized that he could in fact get harder. And it was getting painful inside his breeches.

 

The red-haired Wildling seemed to understand his predicament, and she undid his laces with one hand, pushing the garment over his thighs with the other, revealing his body to her sight. She looked at his cock and grinned, glancing up and staring into his eyes with a look he didn’t understand.

 

She wrapped her small hand around him and gave him first one, then two pumps. Her grip was firm, and a cry tumbled from his lips. The sound made her moan, and she gripped him a little tighter, pumping him some more and flicking her thumb over his damp head. She didn’t do as well as he did for himself, but the fact that a nude girl was the one playing with his dick was all Jon needed to decide that this was the best hand job in the world.

 

She stopped before he got too excited and laid down on her back, pulling Jon down with her by the shoulders. He lay off to her side, and met her hazy gaze. “Now do me,” she instructed.

 

Ygritte wanted him to touch her intimately, Jon knew. But he didn’t know what to do. He’d read old books with some sexual scenes, but they always merely focused on the act itself, nothing leading up to it. So, he did his best. He watched as his hand slid down her lithe stomach, fingers tangling in the bright hair she had at the crest of her thighs. She parted her legs and he could see her glistening, and smell her lust wafting toward him. Several beads of liquid rolled down his length as his fingertips dipped lower, stroking back and forth against the slick folds he found there. He pressed forward with one digit and it sank inside her. She felt so hot and smooth and wet against his calloused flesh.

 

His exploration was cut short by Ygritte’s exasperated huff. “You know nothing, Jon Snow.” Perhaps he should have been angered by those words, but her voice was laced with affection. She guided his hand with her own, manipulating his clumsy digits to pleasure herself. Using his fingers, she rubbed a small nub at the crest of her lips, and she bucked her hips against his hand with soft sighs and quiet moans. With his other hand, Jon grabbed hold of his cock as he watched her. He needed something more though; watching her like this made him feel about to explode.

 

“Do you want to fuck me, Snow?” she whispered in a husky tone.

 

Of course he did. They shared a look as he hovered above her, and she parted her legs wider around his waist, planting her feet on the ground. Jon grabbed hold of a hip bone, guiding his cock with the other hand. The moment his head came in contact with her wetness, he had to draw back and collect himself. Her slick heat was going to overwhelm him, he thought. He was going to need to concentrate very hard not to spill too soon. He tried again, and this time, he sank inside her a full inch. Her body surrounded the head of him and the jolts of pleasure that were shooting through his body were almost too much for him. But he bit down on the inside of his cheek to distract himself and pressed forward steadily, until his whole cock was sheathed inside her heat. Jon could feel tears prickling behind his eyes, his pleasure was so intense.

 

“Move,” Ygritte demanded, and Jon realized he had been holding very still.

 

He pulled out of her halfway and thrust back in, the delicious friction surreal to him. He was compelled by instinct to thrust again and again. He vaguely registered Ygritte’s grunts and moans, and her hips rising to meet his, but his vision was white and starry, and his brain could focus only on the slick warmth around his dick. He only thrust four times before his body could no longer handle the pleasure, and he came hard inside her, collapsing on her soft, supple body when he was through.

 

Once he recovered his breath and the stars cleared from his eyes, his embarrassment caught up to him.

 

“I’m sorry that was so...brief.”

 

Ygritte smiled up at him softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “It’s alright. Next time will be better.”

 

Next time, Jon thought, smiling to himself. She would let him have her again.

 

“Ygritte, I. ..I think I lo—”

 

Ygritte shushed him and rolled her eyes, but her smile remained.

 

“You know nothing, Jon Snow.”


	4. Carlisle & Rosalie

**Lesson 4:** Unresolved Sexual Tension - Use the photo prompt above to write a UST scene. Notice their lips aren’t touching. The kiss hasn’t yet occurred. I call this the “almost kiss.”

 

 **Fandom:** Twilight

 

 **Pairing:** Carlisle x Rosalie

 

 **Title:** The Truth

 

Not entirely canon - I believe the Cullens moved away from Rochester while Rosalie was still a newborn. For the purposes of this story though, I’ve taken the liberty of keeping them there. This is entirely unbeta’d, and I must warn you…I’m terrible at UST!

 

**1934**

 

Carlisle had a benefit to attend for the hospital a few towns over from Rochester. Rosalie had proven to have the utmost control over her thirst, and her newborn year had gone rather smoothly. About six months after her change, Carlisle had deemed it acceptable to leave only one family member to watch over her in the house at a time, allowing Esme to attend college for the first time. It was rare for a woman to attend college, and even rarer to major in her field of choice—architecture. But she had been more or less accepted by her peers, and Esme was the happiest he’d ever seen her.

 

Unfortunately, part of her curriculum included a night class every Thursday night, the very night the gala was being held. Edward was also in college on the pre-med track, and had to study for his upcoming exams, almost taking up residence in the school library. Not that Carlisle would have taken him—it was far more acceptable to escort a lady to an event such as that.

 

So, Carlisle had asked Rosalie to attend with him. He never thought she would agree; he thought she still resented him for stealing away her humanity. But when he’d broached the question, she had agreed with excitement. She’d missed making the rounds on the social circuit, something she’d done every week as a human. She thanked Carlisle profusely for inviting her and trusting her control, her golden eyes sparkling with glee. She spent the week following his invitation finding the perfect outfit for the occasion.

 

On the evening of the event, all eyes were on the gorgeous woman on Carlisle’s arm from the moment they entered the hall. And gorgeous she was—thick, golden hair piled high atop her head, crimson, form-fitting evening gown with a neckline that plunged just a little bit too much and red heels to match, a light sprinkling of makeup that made the golden hue of her eyes pop and her lips stand out. Carlisle himself could hardly keep his eyes off of her. Rosalie relished the attention of course, spending the greater part of the evening bouncing from one dance partner to the next while Carlisle made the rounds, mingling with his fellow doctors. Many asked if Rosalie was his wife. Being several towns away from Rochester, they never met Esme, and since they would be moving again when the semester was over, Carlisle simply told them that Rosalie was indeed his wife. They congratulated him on her beauty and asked if he was jealous of the attention she was drawing from the single men at the gala.

 

He replied that he trusted her faithfulness, but, in truth, he did find himself to be envious. Taking a break from chatting, he made his way to the refreshment table and simply watched Rosalie move about the dance floor. He barely noticed her partner—he only had eyes for her. She kept herself at arm’s length from the gentleman, presumably to avoid questions about the firmness of her skin. Thankfully, she’d had the foresight to wear an elegant pair of gloves that extended up her forearms. Carlisle’s eyes lingered on her shapely hips, moving in time to the music, every step of the waltz perfectly and gracefully taken. His breath caught in his throat as her partner twirled her in a circle, her dress fanning out and revealing creamy legs. She laughed with excitement, and Carlisle thought he’d never seen a more beautiful creature, as free with joy as she was.

 

The song came to an end and Rosalie caught his gaze. She politely excused herself from her dance partner, the man frowning deeply with disappointment, and smiled knowingly at Carlisle, drawing her lower lip between her teeth and swaying her hips more than necessary as she approached him.

 

“Why, Dr. Cullen, you look so lonely over here by yourself. Would you care to dance?” she asked, her voice low and sexy.

 

Carlisle couldn’t seem to make his mouth move, but he accepted her hand and moved out onto the dance floor to join her in a quickstep. The quickstep evolved into a slow song, and Rosalie did not pull away. She moved in closer, and Carlisle wrapped an arm around her slim waist, taking her hand in his free one. As he led her in small circles, her body brushed against his repeatedly, and a wave of desire pulsed through him, making his nether regions stand at attention. He shifted away slightly, hoping she hadn’t noticed. He took the opportunity to take in her delicious form. Her hips were shapely and voluptuous, not childbearing hips like Esme’s. Instead of wavy caramel, she had soft blonde locks, much like his own; he longed to pull it from its pile on top of her head and run his fingers through it. And her breasts, so ample, he wondered if one would fit in the palm of his hand like his wife’s. Glancing down at her too-prominent cleavage, he imagined not—her fleshy mounds would surely spill over the cup of his hand. The scents of her too—sweet like sugar, but with a hint of cinnamon spice—nothing like the florals he was used to. All of her sent his senses aflame.

 

Rosalie seemed to realize his fascination, and she inclined her face toward her sire’s neck, scenting along the column of his pale throat. When she reached her ear, she whispered softly, “Oh, Carlisle, if only things were different.”

 

Caught off guard, Carlisle’s voice came out sounding strangled. “How do you mean?”

 

She pressed her hips to his, feeling the evidence of his arousal. He gasped in surprise as a jolt of electricity shot up his spine, and she chuckled darkly.

 

“You know,” was all she said.

 

“I love Esme,” he blurted out.

 

She chuckled again. “I know Carlisle. I love her too. But your venom flows in my veins. Your eyes were the first I saw when I woke to this life. Your mark is the one I wear on my neck for eternity. I feel…connected to you.”

 

Carlisle couldn’t find words to reply; he could only run his hand up and down the curve of her spine, coming to a rest just above the rise of her round rear.

 

Rosalie sighed at his touch. “Carlisle, why did you change me?”

 

Carlisle thought back to that fateful night. He remembered her nude body, broken and bloodied in the alleyway, and yet still so beautiful. He remembered how hard he’d gotten, gazing at her soft, supple skin marred with the sweet elixir of life that he craved so much, yet denied to himself. He had changed her because he couldn’t deny his need that night. He’d been weak, but he hadn’t completely disregarded his principles. He tasted her, drank from her, held her body against his—but just that one time. After he’d bitten her and sated his desire to taste her, the monster receded and he realized what he’d done. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the job and murder this woman that delighted his sense so much. He had never felt so ashamed.

 

As he ran home with her in his arms, he scrambled to justify the act to his wife and son, coming to the decision that he’d chosen her to be Edward’s mate. Still shameful to take Edward’s choice away, but better than the alternative, that he’d succumbed to an uncontrollable fit of lust. Edward had not been happy, and he’d rejected Rosalie as his mate, but he and Esme had believed the lie. Carlisle forced himself to believe it too, and Edward had never gotten an inkling of anything different from his mind.

 

But now, with Rosalie in his arms pressed close against his body, all of those initial impulses came flooding back, and he told her the truth.

 

“I wanted you, Rosalie. Wanted you for myself. I still want you.”

 

“I want you too,” she replied, her voice breathy and light.

 

“I…I thought you hated me, resented me for bringing you into this existence.”

 

“I did, and I do, but now that I understand why…” She trailed off and gently pushed him away as the song came to an end. She graced him with a shy smile. “I have to go to the powder room. Don’t follow me.”

Her grin grew, showing off perfectly white teeth. She sauntered away, and Carlisle returned to the refreshment table, grabbing a glass of white wine. When he was certain that no one was paying attention, he slipped after her.

 

The hallway to the powder room was not crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. The groupings of humans did not extend past the powder rooms doors, but Carlisle continued past them, following the scent of Rosalie’s trail. Nearing the end of the hallway, the wall scones were not lit, and an arm extended out of a darkened alcove, pulling him swiftly into the small space.

 

Carlisle found himself in tight quarters with the object of his misguided desire. Her back was to the wall and her bosom was pressed against his chest, making the pit of his stomach fill with a warmth that he was unaccustomed to. This was so wrong, but it made him feel so right. He sucked in a sharp breath and instantly regretted it as his nostrils were filled by her alluring natural perfume. Rosalie tilted her pretty face up toward his, and their lips were but a hair’s breadth apart.

 

“You want me,” she whispered huskily. “So take me.” Her cool breath wafted over his parted mouth. She didn’t seem to expect a response, and she brushed her fingertips along the center of his chest, down the line of buttons keeping his shirt closed. Her hand fell away before they reached the place he desired her touch most, and his cock jumped and strained with want.

 

“I know what want looks like, Carlisle. I was the object of desire for many men when I was still human.”

 

“You still are.”

 

Rosalie laughed lightly. She moved to press against him once more, but he leaned away. Despite his obvious arousal, Carlisle’s morals were warring with his more base instincts.

 

“We can’t do this.”

 

A look of frustration marred his features before she could hide it. “Of course we can. I’m a woman, and you are a man. We were made to do this. I have what you need, and I need you.” As she spoke, she parted her thighs and pressed her heat against his leg, scorching his skin through the fabric of his trousers.

 

Carlisle took a shuddering breath. “If Esme ever found out—”

 

“She won't.” She rubbed the juncture of her legs against him harder, drawing a moan from his lips.

 

He tried again to dissuade her, against the wishes of his own body. “If only you would just take up with Edward…”

 

She shook her head vehemently. “Edward is a surly, arrogant, petulant child. I could never share with him what I would share with you.” She wrapped her arms around him, her hands trailing downward until she cupped his rear end. She raised her face again, their lips millimeters away, and Carlisle was about to give in to his shameful desire when she murmured, “Let me show you how I need you, sire.”

 

With that one word, Carlisle’s resolve strengthened. He couldn’t in good conscience take advantage of this young, confused, violated girl. He wanted her madly, but he was already a husband—already a father, to Edward _and_ to her.

 

Carlisle jerked away from her, slipping out of the alcove. “We should go,” he said with authority, though his expression was a mix of apology and longing.

 

Rosalie narrowed her eyes at him, her lips tightening and forming a hard, thin line. She turned sharply from him, her dress billowing around her with the sudden movement, and sauntered back down the hallway, never looking back.


	5. Lesson 5 - Jacob x his imagination

**Lesson 5 - Sex-cessories:** Pick a form of body modification and write a short scene using it! Tattoo, piercing, both, it doesn’t matter, just remember intersperse description with action and tap into the senses!

 

 **NOTE** : So not in my area of expertise or interest, but I did my best to use what (very) little I know. I used an idea from a prior story of mine (Hidden Within) and twisted it a little to suit the lesson.

 

 **Fandom:** Twilight

 

 **Pairing:** Jacob x his imagination

 

 **Title:** Boredom

 

I was bored. It was seriously rough trying to find things to do that interested both me and a little girl equivalent to the age of six. At the moment I was sat in an armchair in the living room. Edward, Esme and Rosalie were scattered about, doing whatever, and Bella was about to read a book to Nessie. It looked old, thick and terribly dull. Poetry probably. Kill me.

 

Edward smirked and I wished I could slap him. So annoying. I hate how he pilfers around in my head. I know he can’t help it, but still. Bella began to read, and I was right; it was tedious. I rested my head against the back of the chair and closed my eyes, pretending to listen. When I was this bored, all I could think about was how frustrated I was. I was still a virgin, and I was almost twenty! I grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to my stomach. God, I needed to get my dick wet.

 

Edward snarled at me under his breath.

 

Shut up, Edward. You dip your wick all the time.

 

“After quite a long time. Be patient, dog,” he muttered very low, looking very pissed. Esme and Rosalie definitely heard him, but they chose not to look up from their respective sewing and reading.

 

Patience was not my middle name. It wasn’t even close. And Edward was getting under my skin lately. So, to take care of two problems at once, I thought I’d have a little fun with the prick.

 

I began to imagine a fingertip, slowly tracing the intricate pattern tattooed on my arm. The pad felt cool on my skin as it swirled along the details of the pattern, working from the outside in. The mystery finger taking an interest in my heritage was a turn on for me, and my focus on the touch was complete. Well, almost. I opened my eyes to slits and saw Edward’s raised eyebrow. Good, he was listening.

 

Next I imagined a tongue replacing the finger tip. The wet muscle was icy against my feverish skin as it retraced every minute detail with the point. The cold of the tongue mixed with the heat of my skin almost made me sizzle on contact, and the imagined sensation sent shivers down my spine. The design had many components, so the erotic tracing took some time. Soon, I was glad for the pillow I had grabbed earlier. I snuck another peek at Edward. This time, his eyes had darkened and he swallowed hard, but he still didn’t look at me.

 

I was starting to get myself hard trying to affect him and decided to go with it. It would be kind of fun to get off surrounded by all these vampires without them even knowing. Actually, they probably would know if I came; they’d smell it. Maybe they could smell my arousal even now. I decided I didn’t care. My balls were really fucking full, damn it, I needed this. My imagination was all I was gonna get for another several years. I tried not to cry thinking of that, and instead focused back on my fantasy.

 

The icy tongue retreated back into its mouth, and cool, full lips peppered a trail of kisses down my chests and abs, occasionally letting my old friend Ice Tongue to come out and play. My shorts were pulled away and those lips wrapped around my cock. The mouth bobbed over my thick shaft, running its tongue along the vein on the underside. The mouth didn’t make things boring; it changed things up, alternately hollowing out its cheeks while taking me deep in its throat and focusing suction only on the head, dipping the pointed tongue into my slit.

 

My juices were really flowing now, so to speak, and I struggled not to move or breathe in a way that would give me away. I peeked at Edward again and his eyes were closed. He seemed to be struggling to breathe through parted lips, and a glance downward revealed some definite tenting action. My own cock strained against my zipper, which kind of hurt ‘cuz I was going commando. I peered around and adjusted myself when I saw no one was looking. I stroked my stiff dick a few times, biting back a moan. Edward shifted in his seat and looked to be in the same exquisite pain I was in.

 

Then I did an evil thing. Just to fuck with him a little more. I looked down at my dick in my mind, and imagined an actual person instead of just phantom lips. The top of the head had a shock of red hair that could have belonged to my fantasy version of an adult Renesmee. Then the head looked up at me, lips wrapped perfectly around my dick, amber eyes staring lustily into mine.

 

Edward’s eyes. Edward’s face.

 

My cock jolted and I heard a yelp of shock. I opened my eyes quick enough to see the look of horror before he was gone. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at his vacant spot.

 

“What’s gotten into him?” Esme asked me, looking concerned.

 

All I could do was shrug and laugh.


	6. Edward & Carlisle (Twilight)

**Lesson 6: The Sweeter Side of Lemonade** \- For your homework, I want you to choose a paragraph from whatever story you’d like, and make it softer. Make me feel the character. Make me believe and fall in love in just a few sentences. You don’t need to be a wordy whore to make me fall in love with a story, either, all you need are a few well-chosen words. Good luck, and most of all, have fun!

 **Fandom:** Twilight

 **Pairing:** Edward x Carlisle

 **Note:** The following is a chapter from my story Want. It’s one of my favorite stories from when I was only beginning to write fanfic. The original story is not nearly as “sweet” as this, to be sure. If you’d like to know how Edward and Carlisle got to this point and how it affected the rest of the family, check out the original on Ffn and AO3.

xxxxx

Edward was in Carlisle's study, running his fingertips over the spines of the doctor's book collection. It would seem to the outside observer that he was absently looking for something to read. In fact, Edward was not searching the shelves at all—he was thinking of Carlisle.

There was a reason that Edward had remained alone for over a century. It wasn't because he was turned too young, as Esme used to muse. It wasn't because he was asexual, as Emmett liked to joke. If only they knew how he pined for Carlisle. The two men hadn't had enough time together before Esme came along. They never got the chance to explore their relationship to the next level and Edward was stuck, forever wondering what might have been. Now, the opportunity thoroughly missed, he was relegated to the role of son, as he had been for many decades. He accepted this because it made Carlisle happy. And Edward longed to please his sire. But a piece of him always ached with hope for the possibility that Carlisle would one day choose him.

Edward was pulled from his musings when he felt the tenor of his maker's mind approaching. Carlisle's thoughts were eerily blank, devoid even of the usual recitation of scripture he used to block Edward's gift. Edward picked up the first available book and turned purposefully, as though he were already planning on leaving. The older vampire entered his study with a slight swagger and a strange twinkle in his eye.

_*What did you choose?*_

Edward started and gulped. "Huh?"

Carlisle suppressed a smirk. * _The book.*_

"Uh…oh! Um…" Edward stammered, glancing down at the book's cover. He took in the title—at first, aghast by what he saw, and then resignation set in. He answered, shrugging, "Paradise Lost."

_*You hate Paradise Lost.*_

Edward stood, speechless. He did hate Paradise Lost. He was caught. He grew nervous, unsure of what to do. He didn't get time to figure it out.

Carlisle was by his side in an instant, his hand raised to grasp Edward's shoulder in an attempt to turn the boy to face him. Edward did turn, but he flinched away, recoiling from the shock of Carlisle's sudden touch. Edward's eyes were wide with surprise as he heard Carlisle's thoughts darkening with lust, and he started to back away. Each backwards step only brought Carlisle closer, as though he was compelled to follow, drawn to Edward like a moth to a flame. Too soon for his liking, the backs of his knees brushed against Carlisle's desk, and he had nowhere to go. Carlisle hadn't stopped his advance, and now he stood chest to chest with Edward. The young vampire was only slightly smaller in build than the elder one was, but his boyish appearance made him seem more vulnerable. Carlisle liked that.

The elder vampire tapped his progeny's chest with enough force to make him sit on the edge of the desk. The boy's eyes slid closed, and he tilted his head up and away as a form of avoidance, but his efforts to resist were quickly deflated. In a continuous movement, Carlisle ran his fingertips down the boy's chest, across a nipple, down his abdomen, until he reached his lap, squeezing the hardness he found there. Edward had no control over the low, sensual moan that escaped him.

Edward opened his eyes, though they remained heavy-lidded, and looked directly at his sire. He struggled to employ his final defense. "E-Esme..." he managed to breathe out.

"Shhhh..."

Carlisle pressed the tip of his index finger to Edward's pretty pink lips to silence him. Edward swallowed hard at the lump forming in his throat. He watched Carlisle's eyes as the man watched his own finger trace its way along Edward's jaw, down his neck, and over his silvery scar. Carlisle's lips quirked as he traced over the scar he'd left, the mark corrupting Edward's otherwise perfect skin for eternity.

 _*So many ways I'll corrupt him...*_ His progeny shivered when he heard Carlisle's thoughts.

Carlisle's lips were almost brushing Edward's, and the tension in the air was thick.

 _*You came first.*_ "You should always have been first."

Carlisle ran one hand through the hair at the back of the boy's head and drew him that millimeter closer. When finally their lips met, Edward quickly folded. His body leaned against Carlisle for support as he melted into the kiss he had longed for since the night of his rebirth.

Breaking the connection, Carlisle pulled away slightly to look Edward in the eye. He cupped the boy's face, and Edward stared back at him, his eyes pitch black.

 _*I should have done this a long time ago.*_ "I've always wanted you, Edward."

Seated on the edge on the desk, Edward was trapped there by Carlisle's insistence. That first kiss, along with Carlisle's fervent words, stoked a long pent-up desire within Edward, but his feelings of guilt warred with his yearning to be one with his maker at last. The elder vampire moved forward to capture the boy's lips once more, but Edward stopped him with a hand pressed to his chest. He couldn't do this. As much as he wanted Carlisle, he couldn't bear to betray Esme this way.

"Carlisle, wait. I..." Edward paused, searching for the right words. "I...I don't want to hurt Esme."

 _*Oh, dear boy, it's too late for that.*_ "I already have. She’s gone away to Denali. She’ll probably never return. Let it go. Give yourself to me." * _I know you want to.*_

Carlisle was right, Edward couldn't deny it. While he loved his mother figure, he had always harbored resentment over her being the one in Carlisle’s bed. But he was sick of Carlisle always referring to him in his mind as a boy. He hadn't been a boy since 1918.

"I'm a man," he insisted, sounding more petulant than he intended.

_*Trapped in the body of a boy.*_

Edward sighed. He'd have to show Carlisle how much of a man he truly was. Edward threaded his long fingers through the hair at the nape of Carlisle's neck, drawing him in for a fiery kiss and lifting his hips to grind the evidence of his manhood against Carlisle's. The older man growled deep in his chest at the sensation, and Edward smiled against his lips, satisfied that Carlisle knew he was much more than a mere child.

Carlisle deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking Edward's intimately, exploring every crevice of his progeny's mouth. He tore the shirt from Edward's body, discarding it without care, and proceeded to run his hands over every inch of the boy's torso. Edward felt his reservations slip away under Carlisle's touch. He moaned quietly as the man teased first one raised nipple, then the other, with his fingertips. Willingly, Edward gave himself over to the man he always wanted.

_*God save me from the sins I am about to commit.*_

Feeling Edward's resolve disintegrate, there was no stopping Carlisle now. His need for this boy had festered within him for the better part of a century. It was a tidal wave that couldn't be turned—not even, Carlisle feared, if Edward continued to protest.

"I won't."

With Edward's encouragement, Carlisle rid himself of the barrier of his shirt, and pressed his naked chest tightly against Edward's. Feeling the boy's lean muscles rippling beneath his skin bred a feeling of comfort in Carlisle. This was right. He pressed himself against the boy, trying to get closer, even though there was no room for air between them as it was. He ground his hips against Edward's lap as he licked and nipped along Edward's angular jaw and down his slender neck, until he reached the scar he had inflicted. Licking it gently to prime the area, Carlisle fitted his teeth in perfect symmetry with the raised scar tissue, and bit down with force. Edward cried out in pain mixed with pleasure, and his hips bucked wildly. Carlisle was driving Edward crazy, reclaiming him as his own. The desire to return Carlisle's stimulating touches was ignited. He reached for the older man's belt, only to be pushed aside.

"Carlisle, please. Let me touch you," Edward pleaded.

Carlisle's voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "No, Edward." * _I've wanted you for so long. I want to worship you.*_ Edward did not have the wherewithal to argue, and he let his head fall back, giving himself over to his maker's whims.

Carlisle made quick work of their pants and briefs, flinging them across the room. Edward registered the sound of the garments knocking over a lamp on their way to hitting the wall, and leaving a dent before sliding down to the floor. He would have laughed if he wasn't so distracted by the image of himself in Carlisle's mind. Carlisle's ravenous gaze was trained on the very part of Edward that proved he was more man than boy. It was true that Edward was slight of build; the flu had seen to that. But he had reached a certain…maturity…before the change occurred and he stopped aging, a fact that Carlisle could see oh-so-clearly in this moment.

Long, agile fingers wrapped themselves around Edward's cock, causing the boy's breath to hitch in his throat. For so long, he had yearned for this. It was all Edward could do not to lose himself to the sensations of his sire's hand manipulating him so expertly. He wanted to remember every detail of this, afraid it may never happen again. Carlisle felt Edward harden even more in his grasp. Impossibly hard, to the point that Carlisle thought the boy might burst through the marble barrier of his stretched-taut skin.

"I just might," Edward rasped, his voice husky with need. Carlisle chuckled darkly. * _You like that? How about this?*_

The man dropped to his knees, his face level with Edward's erection. His cool breath washed over Edward's cock in harsh pants, heavy with need. The tip of his tongue reached out to tease the small slit, before wrapping around the head of his straining cock in a circular motion. Edward's hips bucked as a low sound between a moan and a growl escaped from his parted lips. Carlisle, not beholden to a gag reflex, was able to engulf Edward's length completely within his cavernous throat. The older man suckled him effortlessly, his entire length encompassed in the wet heat of the vampire's mouth. Edward's back arched vulgarly as Carlisle swallowed relentlessly around him. Loud, wanton, nonsensical moans escaped him as he threaded his fingers through flaxen hair, trying to pull Carlisle's face ever closer.

Edward relished the feeling of his balls drawing up closer to his body, signaling his impending release. Carlisle felt it too, and promptly released his erection from the confines of his mouth, causing Edward to whine at the loss of contact. Letting Edward come down for a minute (he didn't want this to end so quickly), Carlisle buried his nose in the boy's red curls—curls that were paradoxically coarse and soft at the same time. Edward gasped as Carlisle slid his hands beneath his rear, cupping his cheeks and lifting them off the edge of the desk.

Carlisle nuzzled the tip of his nose into Edward’s most intimate area. Deeply, he inhaled the musky scent that was uniquely Edward. A scent that had no match that Carlisle could name in all his years of existence. He wanted to drink in this boy's scent until the end of time. Edward's fingers tightened in his hair as he listened to his maker's thoughts. Snaking his wet muscle around first one sphere, then the other, Carlisle bathed Edward's balls in his venom, reducing the boy to pathetic, yet highly erotic, whimpering.

Edward's thighs fell open to allow him better access. Every nerve ending felt aflame. Every swipe of the elder vampire's tongue sent an electric current quaking through his body. When the man's tongue lathed his most private entrance, Edward could stand the torture no longer.

"Please," he begged, his voice strained and desperate.

"Please what?" Carlisle's voice was muffled, buried between the boy's legs. He wanted to hear him say it.

"Please...I want you to...I need you to... _fuck me_." The last two words came out as a growl.

_*Yes.*_

Carlisle would give the boy what he wanted—what he himself so desperately needed. He raised his fingers to Edward's mouth and pressed them to his lips.

"You don't need to..." Edward whispered, bucking his hips against Carlisle's insistently.

_*I want to.*_

Edward smiled slightly and accepted his sire's fingers, wetting them with his own venom. Reaching down, Carlisle probed Edward's entrance, readying him for the length and girth of his cock. Edward was right, he didn't really need the stretch; his vampire body accepted Carlisle's fingers without any infliction of pain, and the boy ground his hips against his maker's palm, urging him deeper inside.

"Please...I'm ready..."

Carlisle removed his fingers from the boy, but before he could press his cock to his entrance, Edward sat up and took Carlisle in his mouth, lubricating him. Carlisle's cock was thin, but long. Edward wondered how deeply he would be able to feel it once they were joined.

The sensation of Edward's mouth on him was thrilling, but Carlisle wanted to be inside the boy's tight, hard body. Carlisle grasped Edward's hair and pulled his head away gently. Then, he swept his arm across the desk, scattering papers everywhere, and laid Edward against the cold wood, his rear resting on the edge. Carlisle was too far gone to go slowly. He entered Edward in one stroke, making him cry out loudly at the intrusion, partially from the initial discomfort of being filled, but mainly from the rapture of finally being one with his sire. Edward scraped his nails along Carlisle's back as the elder vampire tried to will himself not to release immediately. When Carlisle's mind had calmed enough, Edward raised his hips, encouraging him to move. Carlisle set a frantic pace, his need for the boy consuming him.

For perhaps the first time in his existence, Edward could focus on nothing but the vampire above him, inside him, thrusting in and out, and the heavy unnecessary panting that came from them both. Edward's fractured moans and heavy-lidded eyes were not lost on Carlisle. The elder vampire was filled with pride that it was he who had the ability to free this boy, to make Edward lose focus on the thoughts of others (and, dare he say, Edward's own thoughts as well).

Edward's eyes begged to close, but he refused to lose sight of his maker above him. He wanted to see everything through his own eyes, not through Carlisle's mind. His sire's eyes were shut, his face contorted in pleasure, his mouth agape, his breath coming in short, labored pants. Every now and then, an exaggerated moan escaped from the elder's chest. Carlisle looked as though he was swept up in his own personal utopia, and that paradise was Edward's body. It made Edward feel proud, and he finally shut his eyes, giving himself over to his own slice of heaven.

With every inward thrust, Carlisle's mind cried out:

_*Mine. Mine. MINE.*_

Edward could no longer form his own coherent thoughts. All he could do was feel the sensation of Carlisle's claim over him, and give in to it.

He * _was*_ Carlisle's. He always had been.

After decades of waiting, Edward finally felt complete with Carlisle inside of him. His maker stimulated the bundle of nerves within him on every penetration, and Edward uttered sounds he didn't know he was capable of making. He felt lost, and yet found.

Carlisle was in awe of the boy. He looked so beautiful with his head tossing back and forth, his back arching, urging Carlisle deeper and deeper. Nothing could come close to the pleasure he found in Edward. Carlisle found himself teetering on the edge of his release, but he sought to bring Edward to climax before him. He wanted to feel the boy tighten around his length, and watch him lose himself in the ecstasy of their mating.

Carlisle took hold of Edward's cock, which was trapped between their bodies. The friction of their rock-hard abdomens colliding against his cock had been fantastic, but the immediate pressure of Carlisle's hand, pumping him forcefully, drove Edward quickly to his unraveling. Carlisle felt the turgid flesh in his hand expand even more. Edward's body tensed like a guitar string about to snap, and he came with a cry that got caught in his throat. The sight of Edward's body, contorting in the spasms of his release, combined with the image of the boy’s seed pumping out of him in forceful spurts, drove Carlisle over the edge.

The building desire within him burst as Edward's channel constricted around his cock, bringing forth his orgasm. With a grunt and a growl, Carlisle collapsed upon the boy, utterly spent. They lay like that for what felt like a long time, simply reveling in what they had just done together. An act that was a century in the making they had both desperately yearned for. After a time, Carlisle peeled himself off of Edward, and angled his head down to his sticky abdomen.

Reverently, Carlisle set to cleaning the boy. He likened it to receiving communion. He bathed Edward's body with his tongue, not wanting to miss a drop, making Edward squirm beneath him. When he was done, he kissed his way back up Edward’s body to the boy's lips. They engaged in a languid kiss, pouring all of their shared emotions into one another. Wrapping Edward in his arms and rolling onto his back, the boy fitted himself against his sire’s body and nestled his face into the crook of Carlisle's neck. He began to purr. Carlisle's arms held the boy tight, stroking his soft bronze hair.

He would never let him go. Edward was his.

_*His boy. Forever.*_


End file.
